The Gods Must Be Crazy
by Martin Baker
Summary: When Toby finds a laptop in the bakehouse, nothing is ever the same.
1. Chapter 1

"Toby! Where are ya love?" Mrs. Lovett's footsteps echoed in the dank stillness of the bakehouse. "Nothin's gonna harm you, not while I'm around."

"Toby?" Sweeney called. Something cought his foot, and he tripped. He landed, face first, on to something soft, warm, and just the slightest bit bumpy.

"Hey!" it squeaked. "Ger off me!" It was toby. Good. So the boy hadn't gone far. Sweeney studied his face, thinking of how best to finish him. He was, after all, only a child. It would need to be quick, and it would need to be painless.

"You got mail!"

Sweeney jumped, looking down at the source of the voice. A small, box-like object sat in Toby's lap. Coming from it was a long rope connected somehow to the wall. It was said rope that Sweeney had tripped on before. A glowing window sat above the part with buttons, and on it he could make out words.

"Fan fiction dot net," Sweeney read aloud. "Received, seven nine, 1846."

"Mr. Todd?" Mrs. Lovett asked from behind his right shoulder. "What are ya doin'?" She looked at Toby. "And what is that?"

'Dunno Mum," the boy answered. "I think it's a magical box that tells the future. Found it just after you locked me down here." He made a tsk tsk sound not unlike Mrs. Lovett. "Not very nice. Anyway, I found out about your, um, special ingredient, about why Mr. T there is always such a grump, and even where his wife Lucy is."

"Lucy?" Now the boy had his full attention. "My Lucy is alive? Where is she?"

Toby smiled, pleased with himself. "Oh. She's a begger woman now. Guess the poison she took made her a bit batty."

"How did you know?" red sparks danced dangerously behind his black eyes. He looked to Mrs. Lovett. "Did you know about this? Did you keep her from me?"

"Oh, Mr. T!" she began earnestly. "I was only thinkin' 'o you!"

"Lucy will be coming into the shop," Toby paused. "Three, two, … NOW!"

Shuffling feet could be heard on the floor above, and Mr. Todd dashed for the stairs. "Beadle? Beadle? No good hidin' I saw you. Are you in there still…"

A tall man kissed her ruffly, nearly knocking her off balance. Lucy frowned in annoyance, pushing at him with her little hands. "Hey! Yer not the beadle! He went and got lost in here somewhere."

"It's me," the man's voice broke with emotion. "It's Benjamin. Lucy, I've come home again."

"That's nice dear." She laughed airily. 'Welcome home then." She turned, prancing lightly out the door. "Ben ben, Benjamin," she sang to herself. Hmmmm. Now why did that name sound so familiar. No matter. She was looking for something.

"Let her go, love," Mrs. Lovett said gently. "Sit down here and lemme fix ya a nice cuppa tea."

"You lied to me." He advanced on her, a look of predatory blood lust in his eyes.

"Give it a rest, old man!" Toby sent him sprawling with a well aimed kick to the knees. "I know you wanna put Mum in the oven for not tellin' ya Lucy's alive, but I'm hungry. I'd like something without any hairs or toenails in it please."

Sweeney turned to the boy, flicking out his raiser. "You know too much. It's time for you to die."

Toby stopped the oncoming blade of death with a simple flick to the man's wrist. Surprised, Sweeney dropped his friend, watching in annoyance as the boy picked it up. He cradled it, looking at Sweeney's neck for a disturbingly long moment before flicking the blade closed. "The magic box says I'm sposed to kill you," he said tiredly. "Right after ya kill Lucy for getting in the way of Turpin, then the old pervert 'imself, nearly kill that girl of yours Johanna who's dressed like a sailor, and then put Mum in the oven for not tellin' you." He sighed, seating himself on a bench and rubbing his temples. "Well I've decided not to play. This game sucks and nobody wins."

"Sucks?" Mrs. Lovett looked at the boy, a frown of concern creasing her lovely face. What did suction have to do with the grim turn their lives had almost taken? Toby turned, walking back down the stairs.

"Where do you think you're going?" Mr. Todd asked.

"Bakehouse," Toby answered, slamming the door behind him.

"I'll deal with you later," he hissed at Mrs. Lovett. "For now, the boy has to die." He began making his way down the bakehouse steps when the door burst open.

"Mr. Todd!" Antony sang out.

He sighed. What was Antony doing here? Then he remembered. Johanna! The boy had promised to bring Johanna here while he went out to rent a coach.

"Welcome, my friend," Sweeney called, trying without success to seem casual. He stood before them, taking in the figure standing just behind Antony. "Johanna?" Toby had said that she was disguised as a sailor. If not for the boy's warning, he would have easily mistaken her for a cabin boy or something of the sort.

"Yes sir," the girl replied. Her voice was soft and young like her mother's had been at that age. "Antony told me all about you. Thank you for permitting me to wait here."

"It is my pleasure," Sweeney told her. "You are always welcome here."

He stared, taking in the curve of her pale cheak and the way the light played on her hair. Johanna shifted uncomfortably. She could feel his eyes on her, and a slow, steady rage was building in the pit of her stomach. She had, at first glance, been undyingly greatful, but the more she watched Mr. Todd watching her, the more contempt she felt for the man. What was it with creepy old men appraising her anyway? First, Turpin did it, and now this fellow couldn't seem to get enough of her. She walked to him, taking his head in both of her dainty hands. Something in his gaze flashed, and he covered her hands with his. She smiled sweetly, bringing her knee up and slamming his head into it.

"WHAT WAS THAT FOR!' Antony and Mrs. Lovett cried in unison.

"He gandered," a voice came from the doorway. "I saw it. He gandered at her." Judge Turpin stood smiling smugly at them. He chuckled, watching an unconscious Mr. Todd slip bonelessly to the floor. "But it seems," he went on "that Mr. Todd is not up for my company. He did, however point me right to you my dear." He began walking purposefully toward Johanna. "come peacefully, and we can forget this whole ghastly business ever happened."

'Not on your life!" Something hit him hard, rapping thin arms around his neck. He craned his head to see a young boy clinging there. "Mr. Todd is a creep, but he worked really hard to getcha here, so now you have to wait!"

"I think not," the Judge said, losing his patience with this ragtag band of simpletons.

"Ragtag band of simpletons?" the boy asked. "is that the best you can do? Listen stupid. You can try to leave, but everyone is in my fanfic now, so no one leaves until I say so. Consider yerselves warned." He waggled his tongue at them before turning and making his way down the stairs.

"Fan what?" Antony asked.

"Toby found a magic box," Mrs. Lovett explained. "It tells the future." She watched terpin attempting to leave the shop. An invisible force sent him flying back if he so much as touched the door knob. "And perhaps it also lets 'im write the future."

Antony nodded grimly. "We have to stop him. Such power is dangerous in any hands, but in the hands of a child, it could be much much worse."

"Antony?" Johanna began timidly. "We know nothing of the box. Before we take it from him, it might be best to watch and see how he is able to control it."

"A wonderful idea, my love." He kissed her chastely on the lips, and the three made their way down the steps of the bakehouse, turpin following behind.


	2. Chapter 2

"Mrs. Lovett began bouncing up and down like a bunny." Toby spoke the words, all the while pushing the buttons that brought them to life on the glowing screen.

Mrs. Lovett stared in shock at her reflection in the shiny surface of the now clean oven door. "How are ya doin' that, love?"

"Told ya it was my fanfic," Toby said coldly. "Didn't I? Whatever I write comes to be, at least till the fanfic is over."

Antony shifted uncomfortably, but Johanna only smiled one of her sweet smiles. "You could do so much good with that gift, Tommy."

"It's Toby," he said, looking at the girl intently. "Johanna went upstairs, wanting nothing more than to make TOBY a plate of fried chicken and mashed potatoes. She didn't come down until it was finished."

She left, humming a little tune as she ascended. Antony glared. 'I would be most greatful if you wouldn't control my wife to be!" he said indignantly.

"For some reason unknown to all," Toby said, typing furiously "Antony Hope believed himself to be a puppy."

Barking happily, Antony ran about the room on all fours. "Yippeeeeeee!!" Toby exclaimed. "I always wanted a puppy." He tied a length of rope about the older boy's neck, running upstairs with him. "Let's play fetch!"

Mrs. Lovett looked most perplexed, a feat since she was still bouncing up and down, up and down. Judge turpin took a seat, watching appreciatively as the woman before him jiggled and shook.

Meanwhile, back upstairs, Lucy re-entered the pie shop. A slow, steady rain had taken the sky, and she did not fancy catching her death. That Benjamin man was laying in the middle of everything,, and she wondered why in a vague sort of half-trance. She was always adrift, it seemed, perching precariously on the edge of reality like a butterfly on the pettle of a rose. She was flighty, her consciousness prone to the winds of chance and random thought. Thoughts and memories jumbled so, she could not tell them apart. Lucy made it a rule within herself not to take even the most vivid of mind flashes for memory. She had tried for years to remember, years that made her older, sadder than she ought to have been. No matter. The benjamin needed to rise and take care of this shop. That was his job, wasn't it? She poked him in the side. No response. She rapped her knuckles smartly on his head but stopped when she noticed the lump there. She shook her head, laying her cool palm against his flesh.

Sweeney's eyes fluttered open. The pain in his head blurred his vision, but through the pounding haze, he felt a twinge of pride. His daughter could cause quite a bit of pain if she had a mind to. It must have been one trate she inherited from her father;.

"come on, then!" the woman kneeling over him encouraged. "Up ya come."

"Lucy?" He took in the grime-covered oval face, the yellow hair tangled with leaves and branches.

'Not too bright, are we?" she chuckled. "Get up and run yer shop Mr.." His name vanished, swept away by a current of perplexity as to why she was in the shop to begin with. "Mr. shop Man."

"Benjamin," he told her. "Oh Lucy, now that I've found you, we can start over."

She began knocking on his head again. He stared. "What? You wanted to start over, didn't ya?"

Johanna bounced down the stairs happily, carrying a heavily laidened tray of mashed potatoes and fried chicken. "Toby," she called. "Dinner's ready."

"Coming!!" He took the stairs two at a time, Antony the puppy trailing close behind. She set the full tray in his lap, but as soon as it left her hands, her sweet smile vanished. "Now what did I do that for."

Toby laughed maniacally, making the word FIN appear on the screen. Mrs. Lovett stopped bouncing. Antony stood, rubbing his knees. Turpin, disappointed at the end to Mrs. Lovett's bouncing, stood to go.

"Ah, ah." Toby said. "In my new fanfic, we're all still locked in the shop, so don't even think about it."

He munched happily, finishing off the tray in minutes. "Hmmmm. What to do with Old Turpy here."


	3. Chapter 3

"Now, listen here, young man!" Judge Turpin could barely contain the quaver of fear in his voice, but he hoped the little erchin would mistake it for fury. "I am a respected judge. Tampering with my emotions or actions with that—that thing will result in a hanging!"

Toby smiled evilly. "That's only if good ole Mr. T doesn't slice you open like a ripe banana."

"Lucy likes bananas." The begger woman sat cross-legged on the floor beside the boy. "can you make one appear in this pretty basket?"

"Sure thing," Toby smiled, pushing the little buttons. "A bunch of ripe bananas appeared in Lucy's basket."

They did, and the graying woman clapped her hands like a child. "Now then, make 'im suffer. There's a good lad."

"Wait, Tony!" Johanna interjected. "Violence is never the answer. Once you start hurting people, it's hard to stop." She caught Mrs. Lovett looking at her in disgust and poked her with one of her hair pins. "See? Now I would hate to see a young boy like you slip down such a dark path."

"Can it, Polliana," Toby said through a yawn. "It's Toby, but now that you got it wrong, I'll have to write about you again."

"Nooooooooooo!" Antony jumped protectively in front of Johanna, spreading his arms out as wide as they would go.

"That won't help, you know," Mrs. Lovett remarked. "Oh, hullo there, Mr. T."

Sweeney did not answer, staring at the lot of them with those unseeing black eyes. The boy was at it again, pushing away at those little buttons.

"Mr. Todd was happy," he wrote. "Johanna and Mrs. Lovett switched bodies. Judge Terpin became a kid again."

"And Lucy got more bananas?' she asked hopefully.

"and Lucy got more bananas," Toby confirmed, smiling as they appeared.

Sweeney smiled broadly at his reflection in the oven door. What a glorious day it was here in the bakehouse! He was reunited with his lucy and Johanna again. Never mind that Lucy didn't remember him from Adam and Johanna had grown into a pretty but annoying little twit. There was hope. People always had the power to change. Just look at him. Only a moment ago, he was dismal and melancholy. Now, though, now he had a whole new chance at life, and to show his good will, he wasn't even going to murder Judge Turpin. He had, after all, killed the beadle. Let the judge live out his life without a best friend. Sweeney had a best friend. Her name was Nelly Lovett, and she had been so helpful over the past weeks. Compulsively, he hugged the woman.

She screamed, beating at him with her fists. "Get away from me, you depraved monster!"

"If you wish." Sweeney backed away from her. "I'm glad your feelings for me have died down so completely."

"What are you talking about?" she demanded. "I've always loved Antony."

"Antony?" Sweeney asked, increduless. "Isn't he a bit, mmmmm, young for you?"

Mrs. Lovett caught a glimps of herself in the oven door and screamed again. "I'm hideous!"

"I wouldn't say that," Sweeney assured. "You clean up quite nicely when you try."

She covered her face with her hands. "I'm old and frumpy and…"

"Watch it, sister!' Johanna stomped over to her. "I don't like being trapped in your twig of a body, but do you hear me complaining?"

"Ladies, please!" Antony stood between them, taking Mrs. Lovett's face in his soft, never worked a day in his life hands. "I'm sure Toby's little stunt won't last for long. Besides, I love you no matter how your exterior changes."

Sweeney would have watched more of this odd specticle if not for a tugging on his leg. "Skuze me, sir," a little boy no more than three said. 'I gots to potty."


	4. Chapter 4

Author's Note:

I want to thank all my wonderful reviewers. You inspire me not only to complete this work of fanfiction but also to continue writing one of my many non-fanfic novels. Thank you, thank you.

Secondly, I do not own Sweeney Todd. If I did, there would be more girls in it. Notice how there's only three? Hmmmm.

Thirdly, be ware. There will be a few serious chapters to come. Anxt, possible character death. I hate to do it, but life, no matter how much we want it to, can't always be full of laughter.

Fourthly, the song in this chapter is "Race You to the Top of the Morning" from "The Secret Garden."

Now, on with the chapter!

The child called himself John, and Sweeney loved him. They romped about the shop all day and late into the night. John liked the little doll in Johanna's crib, and Sweeney saw no problem with this. Johanna had certainly outgrown her old plaything, and why shouldn't little boys practice nurturing at an early age? They pretended the doll was a gentleman come for a shave, and Sweeney showed John how to mix the lather and what each of his silver raisers was for. Their games of chase and hide and seak were so infectious that even Lucy lost her vague look for a while. It did everyone such good having an innocent about the place. Now, the shadows were long, and the outside noises were decidedly nocturnal. The soft clipclop of horses' hooves through rain-drenched streets, the off-key song of a drunk, and the chiming of a church bell lulled John into a half sleep. His eyes looked wide and faraway as children's do when sleep is upon them. Sweeney held him close against his shoulder. He paced, but it was not the caged movement of a mad man. This was slow and aimless, and while he paced, he sang.

"The hideous dragon had carried the maid to his cave by moonlight,  
He gnashed his teeth and breathed his fire,  
The heath quaked and we trembled in fear."

John Turpin watched him intently, his sleepy eyes willing themselves to stay open. This Mr. Sweeney, wasn't his daddy. Oh no. His daddy was a respected judge. Daddy never sang like this, never walked the floor. Daddy wouldn't have thought to rap him in that extra fuzzy blue blanky. He held Dolly close and let the words wash over his little mind. John hoped God and Saint Michael wouldn't be angry with him,, but he thought it would be all right if Daddy stayed away a little longer.

"I said someone must save the sweet yellow haired maiden  
Though surely the cost will be steep*So I picked up my staff  
And I followed the trail of his smoke to the mouth of the cave  
And I bid him come out, yea forsooth, I did shout  
Yee fool dragon be gone or behave."

Lucy brushed the leaves and branches from her hair. Though yellow, it had streaks of gray running through it, and with all the drunks she'd lain with on cold nights such as this, she was no maiden. But for all that, she could almost forget, almost believe the story to be true. What was more, she could remember what he sang ten seconds after he sang it. This was an accomplishment, since so few things of beauty stayed in the siv of her shattered mind. Maybe it was because the words rhymed, or perhaps it was the melody. Whatever the reason, this nameless man had reached her. Something leapt in her, pounding against her chest and sending a flush to her cheaks. He was beautiful, standing there with the babe clasped to his shoulder. He was experienced in matters of sleepy children and late night lullabyes. How many nights had Lucy lay awake, listening to him softly soothing their own sweet… Joy? Josephine? The image was gone, and its absence left her with that shattered emptiness she was so accustomed to. In some part of her mind, she knew that she had done the shattering. Why? She wondered, now that regret was slicing through that place in her chest the way hunger sliced through her belly in Winter. The boy with long hair came up behind her, wiping away tears she didn't know she had shed. He was kind, a perfect match for …

"And then under my breath I uttered a charm said  
To make the worst fiend become kind,  
Knaves and knights of dire plights now diminish his sights  
And it worked and the dragon went blind."

Nelly Lovett hadn't thought it was possible to love this man any more than she already did. She made people into pies, for God's sakes! Some people might have said she did it all for profit, or out of some sick lust, but these people were wrong. She had done it all for the satisfaction of knowing he needed her. To carry out his plan to get to the judge, he needed her. Now, he and the judge were as close as two people could get. The judge was sound asleep, his arms outflung and his face looking up, the closed eyes still seeming to gaze, the wide smile still in place. Did Sweeney know it was the judge he held so tenderly? If he did, would he throw the child in disgust or continue as he was?

"Johanna?" Sweeney's voice broke through Nelly's reverie. With a sickening twinge of horror, she remembered where she was. She, Nelly Lovett, was looking out the cornflower blue orbs of Sweeney's long lost little girl. If she seemed happy to see him now, and then her normal annoying self later, he would be hurt. Still, if she was not interested in talking with him, he would be crushed as well. After all, she had followed him up the bakehouse steps, through the pie shop, and up to his quarters. This was normal Nelly behavior, but now she had to think of a reason why Johanna had followed him. She could try telling him for the hundredth time about Toby making her switch bodies with his beloved daughter, but it would do no good. He didn't listen to her all day, and he wouldn't start now. There was only one thing for it.

'I, um, I wanted to know how the song ends."

"And you shall." He smiled gently, the love in his eyes making her weak. He laid the judge in Johanna's crib, adjusting the blankets ever so slightly before turning to Nelly. He lifted that cursed portrait of his wife and child from the night table, placing it in her hands before singing once again.

"And he charged off the cliff  
Howling mad and he died  
And the maiden accepted my ring  
And then you came along  
And were brave, bold and strong  
And in thanks every night now I sing."

Oh dear god! The man just told Johanna he was her father, and the girl wasn't even there for it! "sleep now," he said, kissing her forehead. We have a long day planned." She nodded, padding down the stairs and away from Mr. T before any more revelations could be made. Perhaps he would attribute Johanna's complete lack of recollection to the lateness of the hour. Nelly hoped so.

Toby was determined to stay awake. So what if his eyes wouldn't open. So what if he couldn't rise from his position leaned over the keys to his magic box. He was conscious, and that had to count for something. Today, they had all been a family – a weird family with three parents, but still a family. Tomorrow, Mr. Todd wanted Toby to write a lake into existence so he could take John and Toby fishing. He called John his little brother. He was, -- well, nice. Unfortunately, according to his beta, the fic ended when the lid of the box closed. He had to keep that lid open at all costs, or the new life he had made for himself would be gone and everything would go back to the way it was before. Someone slid the box out of his limp hands, and his mind screamed franticly. Without it to lean on, he fell forward, waiting for the click of a closing lid. A quilt rapped its self around him from behind, and then he was being carried. It was a man, to be sure. Too broad to be Antony and without the smell of mothballs and French cologne he associated with Turpin. That left Mr. Todd. Was this the end? Would kill him now that toby was too tired to fend him off?

"Goodnight." Mr. Todd tucked him beneath yet another quilt, and Toby recognized with relief the feel of his own bed. The last thing he heard before drowning completely in sleep was Mr. Todd singing softly and with a fondness to which the boy was not accustomed.

"Race you to the top of the morning,  
Come sit on my shoulders and ride,  
Run and hide, I'll come and find you,  
Climb hills to remind you,  
I love you,

I love you,

my boy at my side."


	5. Chapter 5

Had the shop not been suspended in a vacuum of time and space by Toby's magic box, Johanna's screams would have been heard all over Fleet street. Mrs. Lovett was the first to rise, falling back to the matrice with a grunt. She had grown accustomed to Johanna's light and nimble form, capable of bounding up without the creaking of bones or the protesting of weary muscles. She sat up, slower this time, and looked in the small glass on her vanity. Her familiar chestnut eyes stared back at her, a tired and somehow partially amused glint shining in their depths. She swung her feet over the side and stood, padding over to the closet to find a suitable dress to wear. She felt sensible fabric beneath her fingers and pulled. Laying the shapeless garment on the bed, she flung her nightdress hard against the wall, watching in satisfaction as it hit the floor. Johanna had dressed her in a silly sheeth made all of frothing pink silk and lavender lace. She wore it on the nights with Albert – those nights every couple years when the big idiot noticed she was a woman. He had never been good with his hands, and the whole thing lasted less than two minutes. Affterwords, he would stare at her, stare at her in that horrid nightdress like she was a freak, or a particularly interesting speck on his shirt. Bruised and trying to breathe, she would lay there and hate the feel of silk rubbing against her tender flesh.

Tying up the ribbons at her boddess, Nelly hurried out to see what had distressed the girl. Toby was staring morosely at his closed box. Lucy lay dozing in the middle of the floor. Mr. T was polishing his raisers, looking at nothing. Antony sat with his back to everyone, his shoulders shaking.

"Here now. What is all this?" Mrs. Lovett asked in annoyance.

"YOU!!" Johanna lunged through the air, tackling the older woman to the ground. 'I knew I should have straightened your hair when I had the chance!"

"Well there ya go, then! Throwin' temper tantrums jus' like yer father." She took a handful of yellow hair and tugged. "Now, ger off!"

Johanna squealed, rolling away from her prey turned attacker, bumping right into the old begger woman. She awoke with a snort, stretching her arms and legs out in all directions as far as they would go. One arm flopped lazily over the girl who squeaked in surprise. "Oh pipe down, won't ya?" Lucy asked graugily.

Antony fell the the floor, holding his sides as he laughed loud and long. Johanna glared. "Forgive me, madam, but if you had chosen to sleep in a bed or on a couch rather than right in everybody's way, perhaps you wouldn't have been awakened so abruptly."

"Uh?" Lucy stared at the girl, confounded by what sounded to her like a long string of jibberish. "Dunno about couches and burping, but ya needn't scream like that unless the place is on fire."

Judge turpin stumbled in, clutching the torn remains of a fuzzy baby outfit around himself the best he could. "UG!" Lucy threw him his trousers. "Now there's a banana even I don't wanna see! Definitely not appealing."

He glowered, pulling the trousers up his skinny legs at lightning speed. "I don't recall asking you, whore."

Lucy only giggled, pleased with herself for her play on words. Sweeney shut the case to his raisers with a soft but audible click. He walked to the judge, placing a heavy hand on his shoulder. "Let's not hear you say that again." His voice was calm and deadly. "Now I have to hurt you."

Turpin ran to the door, but of course, there was no leaving Mrs. Lovett's pie shop. Mr. Todd advanced on him, holding something small behind his back. Judge Turpin flattened himself against the wood of the door. In an instant, his whole life flashed before his eyes. The bottle was small and unmarked, and as Mr. Todd flipped off the cork, Turpin smelled the familiar odor of piss and ink.

"NOOOOOOOOO!!!!"

"and I thought I had problems." Johanna shuddered, watching the liquid drip down the face and hair of her former capter.

"What exactly were your problems, dear?" Mrs. Lovett asked.

"Isn't it obvious?" Johanna looked at the older woman, increduless. "Look at me!" She held her small hands up to the light.

"Make it stop! Make it stop!" Turpin wailed. "It tingles!"

"It does?" Toby asked, finally prying himself from his box. "But I thought it was only piss and ink."

"so did I," Mr. Todd said, amused. "Now what did he put in that ink?"

Nelly Lovett was not a woman easily distracted, and despite the mahem with Mr. T and the inky, pissy judge, she looked intently at Johanna's hands. "I don't see anything, love," she said at length.

"Then I will tell you," Johanna said, taking in Mrs. Lovett with wide, injured eyes. "do you remember yesterday?" The woman nodded. "When you had the pleasure of being me for a day?"

"I dunno if I'd call it a pleasure," Nelly interjected.

"You committed a grave and shameful offence.' Johanna sighed. "You bit my nails."


	6. Chapter 6

From the waist up, Judge turpin was covered with curly black hair. The only areas of skin safe from this massive over-growth were his eyes, nose, ears, forehead, and lips. A long bierd hung to his waist, and a long, unkempt mane fell just past his knees. The hair covering the man's torso came out roughly two inches. It was soft and sprung back when pulled. Lucy, of course, found this out right away. She couldn't resist petting something fuzzy, even if it was the vile man who stole her life.

"Isn't he the sweetest," she cooed, running her hands through the downey curls.

Turpin pushed her away roughly, staring in horror at his reflection in the oven door.. "What, have you, done?"

"Piss and ink? Sweeney muttered to himself. "Hmm. Well then, would you care for a shave?"

"I suppose that would be…" Turpin started to accept. Then he remembered the day this whole mess began. He remembered the bloodstain on the sleeve of Todd's shirt. He knew his friend, the beadle, had gone into the shop but never come out again. He knew there was, before that Lovett woman had done the laundry, a pile of bloody clothes in the corner of the bakehouse. He most certainly did not want a shave.

"Well sir?" Sweeney opened and shut his raiser. Turpin shook his head violently, putting a hand to his wooly throat.

"Ah!" Sweeney's smile was predatory, but his eyes sparkled with merth. "I take it you think I wish to kill you because I am, in fact, Benjamin Barker and you, my good fellow, had the misfortune of ripping away every vestage of light and happiness in my world."

"You-you don't wish to kill me then?" Turpin asked hopefully.

"Oh no!" Sweeney said earnestly. "I don't want to kill you, Turpin. I need to kill you." He began petting Turpin's throat with the closed blade of his raiser. "but you see, my furry friend, I want to kill you the way you killed me."

"But—but I didn't kill you!" Turpin stammered.

"Oh no?" He began to pace. "do you know what it is to ride on the bottom-most deck of a ship for weeks on end? Do you know what it is to eat your meals in the dark so as not to see the filth crawling all over them? Then when your ship docks, do you know the horrors of a land so void of morals that even your friends will kill you for three quid you didn't know you had? Fever, thirst, starvation, gang green, … madness. These are only a few things that can kill on the shores of Botany Bay."

"Yes, yes!" Turpin nodded quickly. "But look at you, Sir! You escaped and came back to England. Let me make you a deal. Spare my life, and not only will I pardon you for all your crimes, but I'll pay you a handsome settlement for the inconvenience I may or may not have caused you. Now how's that for generosity?"

Mr. Todd spit on the ground at Turpins feet. "This to your generosity. All the money and all the pardons in the world won't bring my lucy back."

"There she stands." Turpin pointed to the begger woman who stood in a corner making shadow puppets without shadow. "Well, all right. Perhaps she is a bit, um, a bit daft, but with the right doctors…"

"YOU IDIOT!!" Todd boomed. "It's because of you she took the poison in the first place."

"Me?" Turpin felt the bile of indignation rise in him. His ears were turning red. They always turned red when he was righteously indignant about something. This was rare, since usually, the things people accused him of were things he'd actually done. So, even now, fuzzy and face to face with a man who wanted to slice him open like a fresh tomato, he took note of it.

"Now listen here!" Turpin went on, flailing his fuzzy arms in a jesture of complete incredulity. 'You wait one minute! Mr. Todd, or Barker or whatever you want to be called, I may have tricked her, I may have raped her in front of all the important figures in London save the royals, but I at no time hinted, suggested, or forced her to go and off herself with poison! So there!"

"Oh that's mature," Toby put in. Both men glared.

"Listen to me, you over-zelous, pig-sucking, addle-brained, power-crazed, fuz-covered.."

"Oh don't even mention this!" Turpin pulled at his bierd defensively. "You did this to me, you… you… Benjamin barker!"

"Oooooo!' Toby laughed, receiving another glare.

"Self-absorbed," Sweeney went on as though Turpin hadn't spoken "uninteresting, lackluster, obsessive, skinny,"

"Skinny?" Turpin blurted. 'Me? Look at you!"

"I," Tod said, stretching his arms "am skinny by choice." He flexed his muscles. They rippled under the pale flesh, and Turpin had to admit he was impressed. "You, on the other hand, had skinnyness thrust upon you."

Toby and Mrs. Lovett gaffawed. "What was that about thrusting?" lucy asked vaguely.

'Pathetic," Sweeney went on with his chain of insults "washed out, inbread, good for nothing, space hording, perverted sub-human bag of flesh."

For the first time all day, Johanna's eyes were focused on something other than her defiled fingernails. "Hey!' she cried, smiling. "Did he say your name was Benjamin Barker."

"It only took you ten minutes," Toby observed.

"Why yes," Mr. T said cheerfully. "Yes I did."

"Judge Turpin always told me that my father's name was Benjamin Barker!" the girl told him excitedly.

"He told you?" Mr. Todd asked, looking intently at her.

"Yes," she replied. "That explains why you're always looking at me strangely. Oh Mr. Barker, I'm sorry I kneed you in the head. If I had known my father was your father…"

"WHAT??!" everyone in the shop except for a baffled Johanna asked.

"Not a very bright one, is she?" Mrs. Lovett whispered to Toby.

The boy shook his head. "Come back here with me, mum. I wanna show you my next idea."

Mrs. Lovett followed Toby to the bakehouse. "Yer not gonna make another one of those fan things are ya?"

"Yup,' he said, sitting down at the box "and it starts out lllllllllllllllllllllike this."


	7. Chapter 7

"Once upon a time," Toby wrote "a judge lived in a shining manour." The air around him began to shimmer. Music eminated from the floor, ceiling and walls.

Mrs. Lovett gasped. "what's happening?"

"Welcome to turpin Manour," Toby said pleasantly.

She stared at him in disbelief. "Don't take this the wrong way, love, but you're a bit… empty-headed."

Toby laughed. "Of course! I'm a tea cup. You, Mrs. Lovett, are a tea pot. It's fitting. You're always filling me with one thing or another."

"I'm afraid I don't follow you, love." Pot regarded cup thoughtfully.

'When I came, back with Senior Pirelli," Toby explained "you filled me with pie and jin. When I saw you, always worryin' 'bout Mr. T, you filled me with worry. When I found out about the pies'n what ya put in them, you filled me with," he thought for a moment "anger. Now, now that we're all stuck in this crazy alternate demention, you fill me with, love I guess. I'm still really mad at you, but you're my mum and I'll get over it."

"Aww Toby," she began, but a gold candelabrum caused her to stop and stare.

"And here comes antony," Toby commentated "spreading light as usual.

"I feel you, Johanna," he sang. "I feel you."

""Oh brother." Toby roled his eyes. "Not this again."

""I have to find her!" Antony cried, flailing his hands in despair.

"Good luck with that." Toby chuckled. "This place has four floors in it, one for every season. She could be anywhere."

Antony moaned, tears of hot wax dripping down his glowing face. "Just wait! You'll see! I'll rescue her!" He ran up a flight of marble steps, still singing. "I'll steal you, Johanna…"

"From what exactly?" Mrs. Lovett wanted to know.

"Dunno." Toby said, raising an eyebrow. 'Considering she's a feather duster, I don't imagine anyone will try to take her from him."

"No love," Mrs. Lovett conseeded "but why is she a feather duster?"

"Oh!" Toby was enjoying himself imensely. "You see, Mrs. Lovett, each of us was turned into a household object based on either our personalities or how others perceived us. Johanna and Lucy had one thing in common."

"They're both incredibly skinny/ Mrs. Lovett guessed.

"Nope!" toby skipped about her in a wild circle. "Guess again!"

"Mr. t is obsessed with both of 'em?" She tried.

"Not quite." The tea cup took a deep breath, preparing to tell her.

"Time! time! Never enough time!" a large grandfather clock pladded dismally by, and Mrs. Lovett stared.

"That's Mr. T," she breathed "isn't it?"

"You got it!" Toby confirmed.

"Judge, judge," sang the gong. "Onward I trudge. Must get the judge."

"Look! There's a smudge!" sang a passing feather duster wiping at the offending mark on the side of Sweeney's shining crystal face. His exterior of hardest mahogany seemed to soften under the brush of yellow feathers.

"All better, Mr. Clock," the duster said cheerily. "Now then, let's don't sing about that bloody ole judge no more."

"I have no choice," the clock said mournfully. "My gong sings whatever I am thinking."

"You should've been the duster," his graying, yellow companion concluded after a pause. "I should have been the clock. I don't think at all, so my gong would hang as still as death."

"Death, death, my final breath," went the gong. "Blade, blade, my fool's crusade, end end, my silver friend."

'If it's blades ya want," the duster said, ruffling her feathers thoughtfully "it's blades you've got. Pity though. They're too small to do much damage, even if ya were all made of flesh'n bone and the like."

This was true. His hands looked to be two tiny silver raisers. A streak of white along the right side of his domed top gave him a rakish appearance. Mrs. Lovet felt the tea in her grow warm at the mere sight of him. Even as a clock, the man was beautiful.


	8. Chapter 8

Even as a feather duster, Johanna was beautiful. Turpin watched her scurry through the open door of this richly decorated room. He felt quite at home in these posh surroundings, but the horns, tail, fangs and claws somehow dampened the experience. He wanted to be his handsome self again. Still, it was a nice change to be out of that abomitable pie shop. Turpin reached down to fondle the mass of yellow feathers, but they brushed by his paw as Johanna jumped nimbly onto the window sill.

"I don't think so, grandpa!" She scurried behind the curtains and out of his view. "I'm not in here for you."

"Then why," Turpin asked, leaning toward the curtains "are you here?"

"I came to hide from someone," she explained reluctantly.

"Hohanna? Johanna. Johanna!" a gold candelabrum ran through the door. "I'm looking for…" Upon seeing turpin, he froze.

"Let me guess," Turpin said dryly. "you are looking for Johanna."

The candelabrum's eyes widened in surprise. "How do you know."

"Lucky guess." Turpin crossed his arms in annoyance. "Now go." He went, and Johanna breathed a sigh of relief. "so," Turpin purred sickeningly "you ran to my chamber," the curtain moved as she nodded "to escape Antony?" Another nod, and turpin laughed. "I am so glad you finally want me to protect you from such vile, corrupting youth."

Johanna stepped out from behind the curtain, her bright feathers tinged a slight sickly green. "On second thought…" She leapt, running out the door "Antony! Wait!"

'For the life of me,' Turpin said crossly to no one in particular "I will never understand that girl."

"Excuse me, my lord," a voice came out of nowhere.

"Bamford?" A smile lit the judge's furry face but faded just as quickly. "I must be losing my mind."

"Down here, My Lord," the voice came again. The footstool bumped gently against his legs.

Sighing, Turpin rested his feet on the overstuffed footstool and looked around for the beadle. "I still don't see you," he said at length.

"I'm underfoot," the beadle said.

"well, that's nothing new," Turpin laughed. "you are always underfoot."

"No, My Lord." The footstool began wiggling from side to side. "I am quite literally under your feet."

Judge Turpin stared, removing his feet quickly. "But I thought you were," He paused, searching for a tactful way to state the obvious fact of Beadle Bamford's demise.

"diceased?" the footstool asked. "Gone? Passed? Pushing up daisies?"

"well," Turpin, ever the diplomat, tried in vain to monopolize the conversation.

'Taking a dirt nap? Kicking the bucket?" The beadle went on. "well, I was, My Lord, but some scantily clad young men and women said I needed to be alive again for the sick of this story."

Turpin scratched his head. "Scantily clad, you say?"

"Yes!' Bamford confirmed enthusiastically "in very bright colors, My Lord. Funny thing, though. They called themselves the gods of fanfiction."

A feather duster breezed in,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,, looking much the worse for wear. She was, Turpin could see immediately, not his shining Johanna. This duster had leaves and branches tangled among the yellow feathers, in in places, the feathers were a soft gray. "what do you want?" Bamford asked, annoyed at the interruption.

"ah!" she said excitedly. "Beadle dumplin', there you are! Had me worried, ya did. Well no matter. Toby wanted me to tell the both of you to come down to the spring floor for a …" she paused "Potluck."

"Potluck??" turpin scrunched up his face in distain. 'I hate potlucks, and I hate that boy. What makes you think I will go with you?"

"He said it was important," the duster informed him. "We all have to meet on the spring floor for a hanging to disguss," another puse.

"Hanging?" Beadle asked, shuffling from side to side. "I thought you said a potluck."

"Oh!" She giggled. "Well it could be a potluck. I forget. I think he said beating, but I can't be sure."

"Such a useless creature," Turpin remarked. "If I thought you would relay my message correctly, I would tell you to tell him just where to shove it."

The feather duster wagged her head in confusion. "So you'll come?"

"Yes," the footstool replied. "The great Judge Turpin will be in attendance, as will I."

"Good enough." The feather duster bounded off, leaving the door ajar behind her. She liked this drafty old place with its many winding hallways. It rather reminded her of the London streets, only shinier. After a considerably long time wandering, Lucy at last made her way to the Spring floor of the castle. Birds sang in the trees, and somewhere to her left, a stream babbled merrily over rocks. Toby sat on a tree stump in the center of everything. Tender blades of young grass felt good beneath her as she made her way toward him.

"Is he coming?" the boy asked, his small form tense and serious.

'Jus' like that Mr. todd, you are," Lucy said thoughtfully. "Always waitin' on that old judge."

"Well?" he pressed.

"Turpin said somethin' 'bout adjusting Mrs. Lovett and a potluck, but the Beadle said they'd come."

"I don't wanna know," Toby decided aloud. "Just as long as he comes. "I didn't mean to get us stuck in this fandom, but without the judge's cooperation, we'll never see Fleet Street again."


End file.
